Chapter Ten

He'd kill her anyway.

Nayla sensed it deep in her bones. Fenton's fury was a tangible force, evil and barely contained. His body shook as he held her to his chest, the blade jabbing too roughly against her skin. A thick drip of blood sloped down her neck and puddled at her collarbone.

She didn't dare breathe or move, even though her racing heart demanded it. Instead, she concentrated on Mace. The moon glistened against the whites of his eyes and cast shadows down his face. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. Every muscle on his naked body was tense, ready to pounce. He looked fierce and deadly.

It was no wonder Fenton shook. The bastard was going to die tonight. Whether she lived or not, Mace would surely kill him. With his bare hands, no doubt.

She took a small satisfaction in that thought. Her life would end but Mace wouldn't be harmed. He was immortal and powerful. What was Fenton thinking?

"You'll drop your weapon." Mace's voice was deep and menacing, alarming even to her ears. "You'll let Nayla go free and unharmed and I won't torture you before I kill you. It's your choice."

The blade sliced deeper as Fenton tensed but Nayla bit back a scream. Oddly, it frightened her more than it hurt. Was she ready to die? Would this moment be her last? She'd only now dared to question the need to give up happiness to fulfill her destiny. With Mace, she could have everything she'd ever wanted but hadn't had the courage to ask. But did she deserve joy and love? Or was her fate to follow her mother and father?

No. Not yet. She wasn't ready. Please, God, not yet.

Fenton's sour breath was hot against her ear. "Stay back, Were. Your threats are useless. I won't allow Paqualette to suffer under this foolish woman's control any longer. Don't you see? If you have any sense in your mind, if there's any human left in you, you'll understand my actions."

"No." Mace stepped closer. "I won't understand anything if you harm her." His lips curled up into his teeth as he seethed. "I'll tear your goddamn limbs off and feed them to my pack if you hurt her."

Fenton wheezed and his hand at her arm felt clammy as his grip loosened. "Stay back!" he choked out.

The edge of the blade eased some, allowing her a shallow intake of air. It was now or never. She jolted to the side and the sharp edge of the weapon carved into her flesh as she dropped to the ground.

Blood seeped from the wound and oozed down, staining her dress. Too much blood. Oh God. Help me. She pressed her hand to the raw sliced flesh, felt the burning pain and watched in shock as chaos erupted around her.

Mace lunged forward, changing into his wolf form. A chilling scream cut through the night air as Fenton stumbled, futilely trying to run away. The enormous black wolf trapped him against the earth and didn't waste one second before chomping his sharp teeth into Fenton's jugular.

Nayla clamped her gritty eyes shut as both nausea and exhaustion claimed her.

She prayed for sleep. She prayed for the calming blackness to save her from her aching heart, her woozy stomach, her helpless, paralyzing fear.

She prayed the horrifying sounds from her past would stop, from the day her parents had been murdered just like this.

Mace. Mace was the executioner now, she reminded herself. Yes, it was for her sake, for her protection, but the putrid coppery smell and the sound of flesh being torn from bones was unbearable. Her stomach roiled and her pulse pounded at the back of her head.

She dug her forehead into the damp leaves on the forest floor and gave in to her extreme fatigue. The dark bottomless pit consumed her, but the promise of peace was a lie. A god-awful lie, ripping her from her senses and forcing her back to that terrible day she'd lost her parents.

Stop. He has to stop.

The sharp teeth. The screams of horror. Scarlet puddles of blood pouring from their bodies, seeping through the wooden floor.

The sounds. Oh God, the sounds of death.

There's no end to the torture. Her parents are going to die. She'll never see them again. Never hear her mother's sweet laughter or cuddle into her father's large embrace.

The monster is too big. I'm too small. Can't stop him.

I'm so sorry. So very sorry.

"Nayla. Nayla!" The monster's voice was familiar as he called her name, hacking through the mist in her mind.

Wet velvet licked at her neck over and over again. His tongue. The animal's tongue. It burned her wound but she couldn't move, couldn't push him away.

"Nayla, you can't leave me. Come back to me. I love you. God, I love you."

No. You're a murderer. Stay away from me.

She had to save herself, to drop farther into the trenches of her mind where he couldn't find her, couldn't see her. She fell until the cavern of night ended, its spongy floor bouncing her up and sucking her down.

Safe. I'm safe here.

A twinkling light flickered in the corner. Just there. Gone then back again.

"He loves you." The soft melodic sound of her mother's voice floated above Nayla's head.

"Mother?"

"Yes, it's me, sweetheart. Rest your head and listen. You've pained for too many years."

Nayla gasped for breath as her lungs grew heavy. Her eyes stung.

"I couldn't save you. I'm so sorry."

"Tsk. You mustn't blame yourself, child. And you mustn't blame him either. The one who loves you."

"He's a Were, Mother. Like the animal who killed you."

"No, Nayla. They're of two different minds. One of evil, hate and vengeance, the other of honor, love and loyalty. Confuse them and you'll never find happiness."

"I'm not sure I deserve love. His love or any love. Not when I survived and you..."

"Shush, child. You always were a stubborn one."

Sweet laughter filled Nayla's ears and heart.

"I never thought I'd hear your laugh again."

"I live on, Nayla. In your heart, in your memories. I live on and so should you. If you need my permission to love this Were, then I fully give it to you. Open your heart to him. Live and be loved."

"Live?"

"Yes, child. Go on now. You've wasted too much time here."

* * * * *

Mace tore the clothing from her body, shredded a piece of cloth and pressed it to her neck. He tried to focus on stopping the bleeding rather than her ashen skin and the size of the gash on her neck. And how her pulse fluttered weakly under his hand.

God, this couldn't be happening. He wouldn't let her die.

His pack surrounded him. Saul and Kaige knelt by his side.

"She's lost a lot of blood, Mace." Kaige, in human form, skimmed his fingers over her forehead and cheek, pushing back a thin layer of mud and ringlets of damp hair.

Mace released his suppressed growl, throwing his frustration directly at Kaige. "You touch her again and I'll kill you. Do you understand that?"

Kaige lifted his hands in surrender. "Understood. So what are we going to do? We've got a dead councilman and a dying Queen. It won't take long for the Paqualette guard to find us here and come to some screwy conclusions. Do we really want to end up in that dungeon again?"

"She's not dying. " Mace said the words but knew deep down they weren't true. His gut twisted at just how true they were. He leaned over to kiss her cold lips and to whisper he loved her. If only he'd had the nerve to tell her when she was conscious. Coward.

Kaige rose to his feet. "So what would you like to do? Take her with us? We can't stay here. It would be stupid to think Fenton traveled all this way by himself. His men must be camped somewhere near here."

Mace ignored Kaige and turned to Saul, who was looking down at Nayla with tears in his eyes. "We can find a physician who can help her. Where's the closest one?"

Saul shook his head slowly, his brow creased. "One in town and one at the castle. Too far, I'm afraid."

"Who else? A nurse. Anyone. Who lives near here?"

A hint of hope glistened in Saul's moist eyes. "The coven. The witches' coven is near."

"Witches." Mace had come across several covens in his long life and knew just how powerful some of them were. Hell, one had helped him save Blanca and Kaige from the Vampire slave ring. Of course, he'd had to bargain with them. There was always a fee of some sort with witches. But it didn't matter. He'd do anything to save Nayla. "Let's go."

"And what about us?" Kaige asked. "What about your pack, Mace? Would you like us to wait around until the damn guard attacks us again? You're our leader for a reason. You're supposed to make the decisions to protect us and keep us together."

Mace glanced around at the faces of his pack and then at Nayla. "You're all able-bodied. You do what you must to survive. My mate is my priority now. She needs my help. If you choose to follow me to the witches' coven, then I'll gladly be your trusted leader when I know for certain she'll live. If you choose to leave, you'll be cut of your ties to me and I'll wish you the best."

Without another thought, Mace carefully bundled her up in his arms. The decision to stay in Paqualette to save his mate would've surprised him a year ago, hell, a week ago, but now it was the only choice. His pack had been his life, his heart, his pride. He'd killed for them. He'd die for them. But if there was a chance he could save Nayla, the woman to whom he'd given half his soul, then he'd damn well follow through.

Saul quickly led the way through the forest until they reached a visible trail. Behind Mace footsteps followed, some human, some wolf. But he refrained from turning to see who remained and who he'd never see again.

The lush body in his arms was limp and pale, her lips blue. How much longer? He readjusted her, cradling her with one arm and pressed harder on the gouge. The bleeding had slowed but her pulse had slowed as well. Damn it all to hell.

He gritted his teeth and shoved the disparaging thoughts from his mind.

She'd live and he'd make love to her again. Hell, he'd be her damn WereSlave if that would guarantee her survival.

Anything.

He'd do anything.